Elektra
by cascade-of-black-ink
Summary: Just another take on the story of Elektra.


ELEKTRA

CHAPTER 1

_The swoosh of metal slicing through air and flashes of red haunted her dreams yet again. Strange dreams that left her numbed in the morning. She dreamt that she was dangerous, lethal and murderous. She couldn't see herself in the dreams; she didn't know what really happened; she just knew. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she felt the anger. She felt the grasp of cold metal in her hands as it sliced through the flesh of the victims; her victims._

_At the same time, she was the spectator: protesting in silence. She watched in horror and swelled with hatred, repulsion and horror._

_In the morning, she felt drained and exhausted, at the same time filled with curiosity to know more._

_That morning, she awoke before the sun rose and sat up in bed, gathering her knees to her chin. That morning, she felt no exhaustion, only confusion and reluctant acceptance. The smell of blood riddled her dream the night before, and she shivered as she closed her eyes and replayed the dream all over and over again in her mind._

_In that dream, she saw herself._

_An assassin._

"Miss?"

Her eyes flew open and her head shot up at the direction of the door. Suza the maid jerked a half-step back, her eyes wide with fear and worry.

"Yes, Suza?" she asked.

Suza gulped and said shakily, "Your eyes, Miss, are you not feeling well?"

Elektra frowned and stood in front of the mirror beside her bed. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. The pain that was not there before now poked into her flesh with excruciating pain. She dropped onto the bed and groaned, her hands pressing her eyes to reduce the pain.

Suza panicked. "Shall – shall I get a doctor, Miss?" she stuttered.

The pain vanished as abruptly as it had begun. Numbed, Elektra slowly inched her eyes open and did not cringe as light flooded her vision.

What was happening to her?

"Miss?"

Elektra looked up again. "Suza?"

Suza gulped. "Yes?"

Elektra opened her mouth to say something, but shut it and looked down. Then she said again, this time softly: "I'll be down for breakfast as usual."

Suza nodded and squeaked, "Of course, Miss."

Gorbaldi Natchios had already started on his second helping of scrambled eggs when his daughter joined him silently at the table. The scraping of the wooden chair again the cool, marble floor caught his ears. He kept his eyes fixed on the newspaper and waited for a 'good morning'.

He waited for five minutes before setting down his fork and folded the newspaper. "Where are your manners, Elektra?"

"Good morning," she mumbled.

Gorbaldi Natchios fixed his eyes on his daughter and watched her butter the toast. "Why is your head down?"

"Hmm," she nibbled at the buttered toast and sipped her glass of orange juice. Gorbaldi did not like her attitude. "Elektra," he called her name sternly.

She stopped eating. But she did not look up.

"Elektra, look at me. Look at me now. I want to see the green eyes you inherited from your mother," he paused. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Elektra."

She sighed heavily and raised her head slowly. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired. There was no energy in them, no life. They were as dead as a zombie's.

"Dear God," he left his seat and walked across the table to where she sat. "What's happened?" he took her face in his hands and rubbed her eyelids. Immediately, she shut her eyes and jerked away. "Don't."

He folded his arms. "Then tell me what happened to you. Not enough sleep?"

She threw the toast onto the plate and downed her glass of milk. "I've got to get to school." She stood, grabbed her backpack which was propped against a table leg and pecked her father's cheek.

"I'll see you at dinner."

Elektra frowned heavily at her locker lock and gave the metal structure a hard kick. She had forgotten her locker combination. Again. She sighed and rested her head against the cold, metal surface, tears welling up in her eyes. Lately, her life was such a disappointment. There had been no occasion to laugh and smile for a long time. Her life was whittling down to a dreaded routine.

She figured it had something to do with her lack of friends.

She had never had any before. She didn't know how she had survived until now. She guessed it had something to do with trust; for as long as she could remember, she had never trusted anyone before. She relied heavily on her instincts, and her instincts always told her not to trust. They whispered in her ears everyday: 'Trust is an enemy.'

But her conscience screamed back, "Is it?"

She gathered herself and drew a deep breath. Her hand moved shakily towards the knob and her mind started churning out numbers that seemed awfully familiar. Her fingers spun the knob and her ears relished the clicks that came in intervals. In no time at all, the metal door jerked open.

A breath of relief escaped from her lungs, and she had to grin.

The bell rang, and Elektra rushed to her homeroom a slightly rejuvenated spirit.

The loud, rude slam of the door made Oyata Hijatsu's tongue click with annoyance. He eyed the teenage girl walking nervously towards the short bench propped against the left wall of the dojo, just opposite the entrance.

"Posture, girl, posture! Head up! Back straight!" he barked at the girl. Instantly she snapped up and assumed a serious face, although it was tinged with embarrassment. Hijatsu shook his head and clicked his tongue again. "When will you ever learn, girl?"

"I will, _sensei_," she pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and walked to face the front of the small dojo, where he sat cross-legged on the floor. She bowed and dropped onto the floor opposite him. Two _bo_ rested on the floor beside him.

"You'd better," he replied and nodded curtly.

Oyata Hijatsu was bald, skinny and thick-mustached. Judging by the eerie silvery shade of his mustache, he appeared to be in his late fifties. Sitting there on the floor with palms upturned resting on the knees and eyes closed, he looked frail and sick. No one, not even Elektra, his student of many years, could believe that Oyata Hijatsu was a man of immense strength.

The meditation lasted for fifteen minutes. Elektra drew three deep breaths before ending the session with a clap and opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim light of the small dojo. She felt much calmer now. She relaxed and brought her knees to her chin.

"Now, tell me of what you intend to do today," Hijatsu said calmly. Elektra shrugged and opened her mouth to speak. He cut in, "Discipline, girl! So reckless! I do not accept such behaviour in my dojo!"

Elektra sighed and sat up straight, "Yes, _sensei_."

Hijatsu looked at her fiercely again. "You are hopeless, do you know that, girl?"

Now it was her turn to snap, "Why do you say so, _sensei_?"

"Because your dreams of late are troubled," he tilted his head and looked at her questioningly. "Are they not?"

Elektra drew a sharp breath and asked uncertainly, "How do you know?"

"I am your _sensei_, girl."

"Does it make you my personal mind reader then?"

"Negative vibes, girl. Your dark aura is unmistakable."

Elektra fell silent.

Hijatsu stared at her again. Then he stood and went to a cupboard that rested comfortably in an enclave in the wall behind him. Elektra only watched him. He opened the creaking the doors and rummaged in the dark void before emerging with a pair of sharp metal weapons. She could not take her eyes off them.

He stood in front of her. "Stand."

She stood.

"What are these?" she asked breathlessly.

"_Sai_," he replied curtly. She reached out and grasped the hilts of both _sai_.

An eerie familiar feeling seeped from the weapons into her hands. She shivered inwardly as a ripple of power spread passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Her eyes glazed with awe at the power the _sai_ possessed. Then she heard the whisper in her ear:

"_Welcome, my friend_."


End file.
